


Making Arrangements

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [58]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Flowers, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Cracktackular prompt: <i>Captain America (movie 'verse), Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Steve is a florist, and his best friend Bucky is his best customer.</i></p><p>In which the writer fails completely at writing crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Brief mention of PTSD.

Sara’s Flowers was having a slow sales day, but Steve didn’t mind. Most days there was a steady flow of customers, so he enjoyed having the downtime to work on new arrangements, and finally unpack the boxes of card holders and specialty vases that had arrived earlier in the week.

When the bell over the door tinkled he stuck his head out from the back to check if it was a customer or a delivery. It was Bucky, which was even better. As always, Steve felt his skin flush hot at the sight of the man, looking so good in jeans and a red flannel shirt. They’d been friends since they were kids, and the feelings Steve had for him had only intensified with time.

“Don’t tell me,” Steve said, coming out to lean against the counter. “Another broken heart needs soothing?”

“Fuck off,” Bucky said mildly. “Maybe I just came by to see _you_.”

“Maybe pigs might fly.” Steve couldn’t help razzing him a little. Bucky was a notorious ladies man, but he never lasted long with any one girl. The string of broken hearts he left behind him helped Steve stay in business, because Bucky always sent flowers after he cut someone loose.

Bucky flipped him off and wandered around the displays, hands in his pockets. He’d changed a lot since coming back from Afghanistan, turned quieter and more prone to getting lost in his own head. Steve was just glad he’d made it back at all; some of their friends hadn’t.

Bucky paused in front of the patriotic display, as he always did, and scowled at it. There were stars and stripes on the vases, the teddy bears and the gift cards. Red, white and blue bunting draped off the shelf. And hung on the wall behind the displayed items was a framed picture of Bucky in his Army uniform, the mischievous glint in his eye belying the serious expression on his face.

Steve would’ve gone with him, would’ve given anything to serve his country that way, but he’d been pretty sick as a kid, and even though he’d worked hard to fill out and bulk up, he still had a weak heart. The Army hadn’t wanted him, but he found ways to contribute: sending care packages, donating a portion of his revenue from the store, organizing letter drives.

Steve waited till Bucky had moved on before talking to him again. “So what do you need? The standard ‘Sorry I’m a dick’ bouquet?”

“How about ‘My best buddy sucks, you have my sympathy’ instead? I want to send it to myself.” Bucky made his way back around to the counter and rested both hands on it, palms down. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up just enough to show the edges of the scars that ran down the length of his left arm, souvenirs of his time overseas; he rarely went out without covering them.

Steve laughed, like he was meant to, but something was up with Bucky, he could tell. Normally when he came in to buy flowers, it was with some crazy tale of the girl he just dumped (like Emily, who’d had all the cats and bought Bucky a fuzzy cat hood to wear in bed), but today he seemed down. Unhappy.

Maybe he’d been dumped this time, and the fact that he felt so bad about it made Steve’s stomach knot up. He was fine most of the time, because Bucky was a serial dater and never seemed to want to settle down. He didn’t know what would happen when that changed, when someone else became more important in Bucky’s life. He was ashamed at his own selfishness.

Maybe it was time for Steve to settle for someone, and stop pining for what he couldn’t have.

“You want to talk? I have a fresh pot of coffee in the back.”

Bucky shrugged, which Steve took as a yes. It was almost lunch time anyway, so he flipped the sign on the door to _closed_ and turned the lock. Normally Shirley worked the front while Steve made the arrangements in the back, and they staggered their lunches, but she had a sick kid at home. 

There was a little kitchenette in the back, and a table with two chairs. Bucky sprawled in the one against the wall, fingers tapping on his knee like he was nervous. Steve fixed them each a cup of coffee – black for Bucky, two sugars for himself – and joined him at the table. The silence spread between them, and Steve fished around for something to say.

“You remember Andy, from the old neighborhood?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “Handy Andy?”

“He’s going by Mandy these days. Had that operation and everything.”

“No shit? Jesus, that explains a lot. How’d he look?”

“Not bad, actually. I wouldn’t have recognized him.” Steve gestured with his hands. “He’s got a big rack, treated himself to a pair of D’s.”

Bucky nodded approvingly.

“He – well, I guess _she_ , now – wanted to know how a punk kid like me became a florist.”

“What’d you say?”

It wasn’t like Bucky didn’t know. He’d always encouraged Steve’s artistic inclinations; sketching, painting, that one horrible experiment in clay, even the time he thought he’d be a performance artist in Times Square. It hadn’t been until after Steve’s mother had passed away, and he was missing her so damn much, that he thought of how much she’d loved flowers. How many times had he helped her make silk arrangements for each room of their little apartment? After that things just sort of clicked for him, and Sara’s Flowers was born.

“I told her someone needed to make bank off all those lonely hearts you leave behind, and it may as well be me.”

Bucky made a sound like a choked growl and slammed his fist on the table, making Steve’s coffee cup clank against the sugar bowl. Steve couldn’t help flinching.

“There aren’t any women!” Bucky practically snarled. “Are you really that fucking gullible?”

Steve just stared at him. When they were kids, Bucky had always been the cool one. Steve had been the hot-head, out picking fights in the cause of justice (which had really just been a way to try and fight his own wimpy, sick kid image). Their roles had reversed somehow when they became adults, and especially after Bucky came back from Afghanistan.

“Buck?”

“You always thought I was some big lothario, and I let you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.” Bucky propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

Steve reached out, slow and careful, and wrapped his hand loosely around Bucky’s wrist. “Hey. The only person I want you to be is you.”

He felt sick with guilt. Of course there hadn’t been any women, not in the last few years anyway. Bucky refused to admit that he suffered from PTSD, but Steve knew he did. Knew that Bucky didn’t always sleep well, that sometimes he was really skittish and paranoid. But Bucky had played along. Had he done that just for Steve, to set Steve’s mind at ease?

“Bucky, you don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Not ever.” Steve meant that, with all his heart, and he hoped he was getting through.

Bucky raised his head, hair hanging almost in his eyes, and the look of naked vulnerability on his face made Steve suck in a breath. He wanted to cover his friend, hide him away from the world and anyone who had ever hurt him. Which was ridiculous, because Bucky was the strongest, bravest person he’d ever known. Besides his mother.

“I never wanted any of them,” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m tired of lying.”

“Then stop. It doesn’t matter to me, I mean it. We’ve been friends as long as I can remember. Nothing’ll ever change that.”

Nothing ever had. Not time, not distance, not whatever Bucky had gone through in the Army. He’d been there for Steve whenever he was sick – which had been a regular thing when he was a kid – and he’d been there when Steve’s mother died and he’d felt so lost. He’d encouraged Steve to pursue a career as a florist, despite the teasing he got about it, because he knew it would make Steve happy. He was Steve’s one constant, his lighthouse in the dark.

“Nothing?” Bucky asked, and now there was a challenge in his voice. A hard edge to his expression. A familiar glint in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

In that moment, Steve wasn’t sure of anything. But he heard himself say, “I’m sure.”

It seemed to happen both incredibly slowly, and quicker than a wink. Bucky pulled Steve in, and met him halfway, both of them leaning over the table. That first kiss was everything Steve had ever wanted, and nothing he thought he’d ever have. He opened up to the insistent pressure of Bucky’s tongue, and twined his fingers into Bucky’s long hair.

He didn’t want the moment to ever end. But all too quickly Bucky pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“How long you been holding that in, punk?”

Steve gave Bucky’s hair a tug. “I could ask you the same thing. Asshole.” He could feel the grin spreading across his face, but he was helpless to stop it. “Did you make all of it up? Those stories?”

Bucky shrugged. “Just trying to keep the Barnes mystique alive.”

“But all those flowers.”

“I brought them to the hospital. Figured the patients could use some cheering up.”

That was so Bucky that Steve had to kiss him again, so he did. He was beginning to suspect that he could start doing that whenever he wanted, and it was a heady feeling.

“How’d you feel about going out with me? Like on a date?” Steve asked.

“I think it’s a good start.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s knuckles.

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” Steve promised. 

When they went on their first date, Steve brought a bouquet of white daisies, which symbolized love and loyalty, and the purity of both.


End file.
